Introduction to Odd Objects in the Black Market
by Taygeta
Summary: Jeff and Britta talk about the deal gone wrong in "VCR Maintenance and Educational Publishing". Jeff x Britta.


**Introduction to Odd Objects in the Black Market**

by Taygeta

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Summary: Jeff and Britta talk about the deal gone wrong in "VCR Maintenance and Educational Publishing". Jeff x Britta.

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The group was walking out of Greendale, making their good-byes. Well, everyone except for Abed and Annie who were absent-mindedly making their farewells as they both passive-aggressively argued about search criteria on Craigslist for something.

"Abed, I don't think you know what that means..."

"Annie, I don't think YOU know what that means..."

Shirley glanced at Annie's phone and looked shocked, saying in her deepest vocal register, "I don't think either of you know what that means." They gave her a questioning glance but before they could ask her any questions, she smiled widely and cheerfully to the group, "Well, good-bye everyone! Have a nice weekend!"

Jeff and Britta were left on the steps of Greendale watching everyone head to the parking lot.

"There is a dark, dark side to that woman," Jeff observed of Shirley.

"I wonder what Abed would say if he knew that Evil Shirley from the Darkest Timeline lives in _our_ timeline," retorted Britta.

"This coming from the woman who helped tie me up first?"

She shrugged somewhat awkwardly, but then pushed his arm slightly, "Don't pretend you didn't like it a little..."

"If Pierce were still with us, he'd say 'gay' and tell me it was because of Hickey..."

Britta laughed, "Yeah...he would." Then she got a look in her eyes that Jeff could only attribute to "therapizing". She began, "I wonder what Shirley must be going through lately. I mean, money and power changes a person or the hope of it, but Shirley's crossed a lot of lines these last couple of months."

Jeff frowned, "That almost sounded profound."

"I've been taking 'Advance Speaking'," said Britta. "Professor Smith's been mostly sober this week."

"I took that as an elective. There are a few gem moments between Smith's bouts of general drunken stupor."

Britta nodded, "Well I better go catch the bus."

"The bus?"

"My car broke down again," she shrugged. "Second time in six months. Waiting to hear back from Pedro about the cost. I'm hoping it's nothing crazy. Tummy Tuesdays tips well and I'm not ashamed of it or anything, but I can't really get that general look of shock and horror out of my head from when you guys visited me at work...without telling me last month."

"Sorry - I tried to tell them that there are things you can't unsee, but Annie was going on about being supportive and Shirley was going on about the Good Lord. If it helps - Hickey doesn't care or greatly approves and I made sure Abed didn't film anything."

"No, it's fine," said Britta. "If I want to be taken seriously as a therapist, I probably shouldn't be known for Tummy Tuesdays. I don't want to conform to social norms, but I can see that being a valid one in our society where women aren't seen as having control over their bodies. Anyway, I really should head out..."

"Look, I can give you a ride home if you want?"

"I'm across town from your apartment, Jeff. You don't need to go out of your way."

"It's not out of my way, I was going to run an errand out that way."

Britta raised an eyebrow, "Jeff, aside from the time we were having secret sex, there is nothing in my side of town that requires any of your time."

Jeff didn't confirm or deny that observation, "I'm giving you a ride home, Britta - don't make a big deal out of it."

"Fine."

Britta put her backpack and books in the backseat before opening the door to the front passenger seat. When she sat in the front, she automatically checked her hair in the mirror.

Jeff was seated in the driver's side trying not to laugh.

"What?" she asked as he started the car.

"It's been awhile since I've given you a ride home from Greendale," he replied thinking about the days of Britta's previous clunker of a car. "The routine hasn't changed - bag and books in the back, check your hair in the mirror."

She found herself smiling, "I didn't realize you were paying attention back then. You generally act like you don't care."

As Jeff drove out of the parking lot he replied, "I don't - but I'm more observant than most people realize."

"Ahh...the secret to your grand speeches and lawyering?"

"Fact gathering - and fact-making - are pretty important skills I try to convey to my students," said Jeff who then made a face. "I can't believe I just said that."

She laughed, "I can. I think it's great. I think you've really...progressed."

"Into what?"

"Jury's still out on that one. If I let you know what's in the betting pool, I'd have to kill you."

"Well if I think of any categories, can you confirm enough that I can slip you a hundred to make a bet for me?"

"Maybe...but I take half," referenced Britta.

He glanced at her, "We'll negotiate."

"You seemed pretty willing to give me half earlier," she brought up.

He took a deep breath, knowing that this would probably happen if he gave her a ride home. Maybe he had been hoping to have this conversation. "It seemed easier and less likely to get me into major trouble."

Britta fiddled with the sleeves on her sweater, "Did you know about my car - before I told you?"

"Abed may have said something."

"Did you feel sorry for me?"

"No," Jeff said quickly, almost too quickly for Britta's liking. "It's just that - you know - me and Hickey might not have the best jobs in the world, but we do get a fairly regular paycheck. Shirley has her business costs, but the business seems to being doing fairly well the last few months. I just figured, out of all of us, you would actually use the money on things you needed."

"That's nice of you, Jeff, but I'm fine," said Britta. "This thing with my car will blow over soon and if it's expensive, I'll just put in more shifts at the bar. I appreciate it, but I don't need you feeling sorry for me."

Jeff rolled his eyes, "I'm not feeling sorry for you, Britta. It's just - "

"...what?" She asked, adding with a laugh, "And don't tell me it's because you want to be like some knight in shining armor. I know you and that chivalry is dead."

"Look - I'm not going to quantify this in specific terms or instances or anything that you could connect to 'therapizing'..."

At the word, Britta found herself sitting up straighter in the car seat with a broad smile.

"...or anything that is going to make you smile like you're smiling right now..."

Britta's smile maintained its presence despite Jeff's objections, "But...?"

"But you've done a lot for me, especially in times when I was a certifiable asshole," said Jeff as he parked the car in front of Britta's apartment building. He turned his head to see the smile still plastered on her face and sighed, "You listen to me more than I probably deserve and I'm just trying to return the favor."

"Jeff, you don't owe me anything. We're friends - that's what friends do."

At the word "friends", there was something in the moment where Jeff didn't think it quite explained what was going on in head.

So he leaned in to kiss her. This kiss wasn't like past kisses they shared - passionate things driven by unresolved sexual tension, class grades, rivalry, and the intrigue that inevitably comes with having secret sex. It was soft - gentle even. It was steady with his hands at the nape of her neck, fingers in her hair. There was a certain new-ness involved, detected by two people who had previously kissed a lot and liked it.

The act took Britta by surprise, but not completely because when he pulled away and looked at her, she stared back into his eyes and felt comfort in their familiarity. As she looked at him, she wanted to say something stupid like, "And what favor was that for?" But it didn't seem to fit and she really wanted to kiss him back.

So she did.

And that's how Jeff and Britta found themselves making out in the middle of the afternoon in his car in front of her apartment building. There was something about it all that made them seem like misprinted chemistry books, recovered from storage - pristine and damaged all at once. What page number were they at, at this point? They certainly couldn't tell you either. Some might argue that when they progressed from the car into Britta's apartment, the page numbers to their story were even further jumbled.

But one thing was for certain: they were worth more than twenty dollars on the Black Market because somewhere out in the world, Troy Barnes was the yet-unknown winner of that betting pool.

_I was in my car, loving Britta_. -Jeff Winger, Anthropology 101, 2x01

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Feedback appreciated!


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